


Under the Stars

by sterekanigans



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Beaches, Fanart, Fireflies, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Post Season 2, Pre Season 3, Stargazing, Stars, Summer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-07-27 17:16:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7627099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sterekanigans/pseuds/sterekanigans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek and Stiles have never particularly had much in common, or at least until Boyd and Erica went missing. That summer was filled with hours of endless searching and many sleepless nights, but there were a few times when Derek and Stiles began to realize that perhaps they connected in more ways than one.<br/>This is one of those times.</p><p>Or what really happened the summer Boyd and Erica went missing. </p><p>---<br/>“Hey, you can’t just judge people on their appearances. Otherwise, who’d ever know that you, the big bad wolf, likes water fights?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under the Stars

**Author's Note:**

> For the Sterek Summer Spectacle: Week 1 Summer: Hystereks team  
> Artwork by hunting-hands (http://hunting-hands.tumblr.com/)   
> Check her out!!
> 
> Takes place in the summer in between seasons 2 and 3.  
> Enjoy!
> 
> Vote for us here! ( Team 18-Hystereks)

                                                                      

Stiles drops the stack of papers with a thunk, tips his head back and lets out a groan. It’s before noon on a Saturday in the summer holidays, which means he should most certainly still be in bed (according to the certified Stiles-Stilinski’s-Guide-For-Winning-In-Life).

Instead he’s sitting on cold wooden floorboards, hoping the black soot won’t completely ruin his favourite pair of jeans. Weak light trickles through the boarded up windows, leaving the edges of the room cloaked in shadows. Even after a month, Stiles still shudders as he imagines what one might find lurking there.

In other words, he’s in the Hale House out in the middle of the preserve. Well, what’s left of it anyways. How on earth Derek deems this place sanitary and suitable to live in, Stiles will never understand- he can practically hear the termites and cockroaches crawling around. But the worst thing- there’s no internet, or even a TV.

A noise behind him signals Derek’s presence, reminding Stiles that he is not alone.

“I’m going to go absolutely crazy if I have to read anymore articles about the deaths of rabbits or the other animals crazy enough to live in the woods around here,” complains Stiles. “I just can’t do it anymore- look someone seriously wrote an article titled ‘Now you’re just some bunny I used to know!”

“It’s only eleven am,” grinds out Derek. “Didn’t you once tell me that you were the king of research who once spent 17 hours straight on Wikipedia?”

“Yes, but I hadn’t spent _four whole weeks_ doing the exact same thing!” He waves his hands in the air for emphasis. “Seriously, how hard can it be to find two newly turned werewolves? They’re teenagers- they should be leaving a trail visible from the moon!”

“I trained Boyd and Erica so they wouldn’t be trackable, Stiles. We have had, as I’m sure you’re very aware, a large hunter problem in recent times. Forgive me for wanting them to have the skills to be able to survive until adulthood.”

“Yeah, well now _we_ can’t find them and _we’re_ the ones left poring over endless news reports- day after day after day, out in the middle of freaking nowhere. I mean god, we could at least have done this somewhere civilised so I don’t have to feel like an old man every time I get a back ache from sitting on the floor.”

There’s a pause.

“No-one’s forcing you to stay,” mutters Derek.

Stiles turns fully so he’s facing Derek, who’s hunched over a map on a half burnt table. He’s gripping the edge of the table tight, the veins in his arms matching the worry lines etched onto his face. Stiles can read the weariness in Derek’s eyes- if Stiles has been giving 100% looking for Erica and Boyd, Derek’s been giving double that.

Stiles swears under his breath. “No, no, sorry. I didn’t mean that. You know I want to help as much as possible. It’s just we’ve been searching for weeks, looking over the same old information. We haven’t had any new leads in god knows how long and I just feel that we’re going in circles.”

“Well do you have any other ideas?”

Stiles frowns for a moment, before settling on something. “Yes, actually.”

Derek remains stoic and unimpressed. Standing up, Stiles brushes himself off and stalks over to Derek. He pulls the map from Derek and folds it up. Then, he grabs Derek’s wrist and starts pulling him to the door.

“Stiles. What are you doing.”

“When was the last time you even saw the sun?”

“What? Two days ago, when we were-“

“Out in the woods sniffing for tracks.” Stiles tries again. “When was the last time you did something non Boyd and Erica related?”

“Stiles. They are my first priority. There is nothing else to do but to look for them.” Then, Derek’s agitated voice drops and he continues, softer, “They’re my responsibility and if I stop, that is when I will have failed them.”

“Look Derek,” Stiles sighs, “I get you want to find them. I want them back as much as you do. But this isn’t healthy- I mean you look like you haven’t shaved in a week, and you certainly smell like you haven’t had a shower recently. And that’s with my _human_ nose. We’re not getting anything done and frankly we need a break. A long overdue one.”

Stiles marches Derek to the Jeep and opens the passenger door, trying to push Derek in.

“We don’t have _time_ for a break-“

“Uh uh. We do and we are taking one. Right now. I know just the place, so hurry up and get in because the faster we get there, the faster we can get back here to continue the search.”

Derek stares at him for a moment before relenting. Huh, Derek must be more tired that Stiles had initially thought- he’d expected much more of a fight.

Slipping into the driver’s seat, Stiles fires Roscoe up and reverses out jerkily.

“At least try to get us there in one piece,” growls Derek.

“Please; Roscoe and I are the dream team- we’ve got each other’s backs. You wouldn’t betray me, would you?” He taps Roscoe’s dashboard fondly.

If the deadpan look Derek directs his way is anything to go by, it’s clear he doesn’t exactly agree.

\----------

Stiles almost misses it.

He turns his head back to confirm that yes, Derek is smiling. He’s looking out the window, a serene expression gracing his features whilst the corner of his mouth curls upwards. They’re about an hour outside of Beacon Hills and they’ve just reached the coast. They’ve got the windows rolled down, a light breeze filtering in, carrying the salty scent of the ocean. The expanse of blue stretches and stretches, but Stiles only notices Derek.

Derek, werewolf extraordinaire that he is, senses Stiles staring and turns to narrow his eyes at him. His face quickly transforms as his tranquil expression is quickly replaced with his trademark scowl.

“What?” he snaps defensively.

Stiles pauses for a beat. “Nothing.”

At Derek’s continued glare, Stiles continues. “It’s just…” He trails off. He’d wanted to say _you’re allowed to be happy, you know_ , but finds he can’t. Instead, he mutters “nothing.”

Derek stares at him for a moment longer before turning back to face the road. Impassive. Then; “How much longer, Stiles?”

Stiles doesn’t answer, instead sharply turning the Jeep into a small street. There’s a semi-filled carpark at one end, and behind it, partially obscured by trees, a stretch of sand and sparkling blue water.

“The beach? Really?” questions Derek as Stiles parks.

“Look, we’re here now so you might as well try and enjoy it, okay? Come on, I know your idea of a fun time is probably staring at the mirror and practicing your three different scowls, but it’s the beach! Everyone loves the beach! What could you possibly have against it?”

With that, Stiles once again grabs Derek by the wrist and pulls him to the sand.

And then pauses when they get far enough to see the beach clearly. There are families and screaming kids everywhere, parents yelling at their kids to not run into the water or trying unsuccessfully to rub sunscreen onto them.

From the corner of his eye, Stiles can see Derek wincing at the loud noise.

“Come on, I’m sure there’s some place a bit quieter.”

Together, they walk along the beach by the water, dodging running kids and trying not to tread on half buried kids. Stiles digs his bare toes into the warm sand, savouring the sun. Derek might not be a huge fan of the commotion of the beach, but Stiles feels relaxed. Surrounded by kids buzzing with energy, he’s reminded of himself as a child.

A little boy with blond hair runs up to them. And then proceeds to whirl his arms through the shimmering water and splash Derek. In the face.

Derek freezes. He’s got water dripping down his face, his usually carefully style hair all out of place. He looks down and just glares at the boy. It’s about a nine on the Derek Hale glare meter, Stiles guesses. The boys’ eyes widen comically and quickly he’s scrambling out of the water and onto the sand.

Then, because maybe he’s more similar to those kids than he’d like to admit, Stiles reaches his hand into the ocean and flicks water at Derek.

Derek freezes again. He looks slowly at his leather jacket, now covered with a layer of water droplets, then looks back up to Stiles. Stiles is positively gleeful, a cheeky smirk daring Derek to react.

He doesn’t, instead facing forward and continuing to trudge forward. So Stiles does it again. 

This time, Derek turns to Stiles with an angry glare and before Stiles can even think about doing it a third time, he’s spluttering as a handful of water is splashed into his face. 

“Oh it is on Derek Hale!”

Stiles runs past Derek, all the while splashing him with all his might. Derek is annoyingly good at water fights. Derek might have a gruff exterior, but inside, Stiles knew there was still a guy who liked to have fun. Somewhere.

“Aargh,” cries Stiles as he gets hit with yet another handful of water. It pushes him off balance, but when one had the grace of Stiles, one was always prepared for the inevitability of falling in.

Next thing he knows, there’s an arm supporting his back and he’s staring at Derek.

‘You caught me,’ he says, surprised.

Derek merely huffs. Stiles frowns and lets his gaze drop from Derek’s as he tries to decipher Derek’s response.

In doing so, he notices that Derek’s front shirt has gone slightly transparent. Damn it, now he’s imagining Derek in wet see-through swimming trunks. _No, stop it, Stiles. Stop it,_ he tells himself.

Just focus on Derek’s glare instead. That’ll put everything back into perspective. Except he’s not glaring. He’s looking at Stiles and there’s a glimmer of something in his eyes, but Stiles can’t tell what it is. Derek’s still holding him up though, and as much as he is enjoying it, it’s not a particularly manly position.

“You can let me up now, dude.”

Derek snaps himself out of whatever he’d been in and pulls Stiles up. They walk from the waterline towards the sand, and luckily there are now less kids running around.

Stiles collapses onto the sand and immediately regrets it. He’s half soaked, as they both ran into the water fully clothed, and the sand is sticking to him. “You’d think after two months of running away from supernatural creatures I’d be in better shape,” Stiles gets out. He shifts on the sand. “Ugh, I have sand in places sand should never be.”

“I once heard that if you don’t get sand in your undies it means you were a gladiator in a past life.”

Stiles whips his head to stare at Derek, mouthing falling open as he stares at him incredulously. Then he bursts out laughing. “What? Dude, where did that even come from?” He continues to laugh. He didn’t ever think he’d hear Derek Hale say the words ‘undies,’ or ‘gladiator,’ _ever_. The fact that Derek said it in his usual deadpan voice only made it ten times better.

When he stops laughing so hard, he looks properly at Derek. Who looks surprised at himself for saying that.

“It’s, uh, something Laura used to say,” he mutters quietly, head turned away. “Whenever we used to come to the beach, she would lie down and sunbake for hours on end, all the while making up ridiculous ‘facts’ to tell us.”

Stiles isn’t sure what to say. He keeps quiet, and together they sit and listen to the waves crashing on the shore, to the faint laugh tinging the air.

Eyes roaming, Stiles catches sight of a rainbow beach umbrella nearby. A man in a black speedo appears to have set up a stand for selling fruit popsicles.

Stiles stands up and tries to brush the sand off, but gives up quickly. “Hey, I’m going to get a popsicle. Want one?”

Derek looks towards the rainbow umbrella and raises an eyebrow. “From him? He looks like the sort of person who’d be selling drugs, not popsicles.”

“Hey, you can’t just judge people on their appearances. Otherwise, who’d ever know that you, the big bad wolf, likes water fights?”

Stiles makes sure to step just outside of Derek’s reach, but there’s no escaping that threatening look.

“Seriously though, you want one?” Derek shakes his head. “I’ll be back in a sec then.”

Stiles soon returns with a grape popsicle. He tears off the packaging and shoves the popsicle in his mouth. “See, perfectly un-shady,” he tells Derek in between licks.

Derek looks vaguely scandalised and looks away.

“Besides, you’d have to be pretty stupid to try and sell drugs under an umbrella that colourful and conspicuous. You know normally, dealers try and stay under the radar, not sauntering around in a speedo. Trust me, cop’s kid- I know what I’m talking about.”

Stiles takes in Derek’s flushed appearance. “Hey, you sure you don’t want one? You look sorta hot there.” Stiles eyes widen as he realises what he said.

“I mean hot, like temperature wise, like not cold. Not the other type of...hot. Not that you’re not hot but…” Stiles fumbles.

Derek gives him a look. This one Stiles can clearly read. It says ‘Shut up Stiles.’ He would know- Derek gives it to him on a daily basis. So Stiles shuts up and goes back to sucking the popsicle. Derek goes back to studiously avoiding eye contact.

They sit, side by side, watching the families in the distance packing up, pulling their kids out of the water and back towards the carpark. Stiles keeps up a running commentary on the surfers lazily catching waves.

“And now we have Surfer McDouchface who looks like he’s got his eye set on that wave in the distance. But can he handle it? Or is it going to be too big for him.” Stiles chuckles under his breath. Derek notices the surfer bears a resemblance to Jackson. “And oh no, it looks like he’s actually caught it successfully, riding towards a high finish- oh he’s fallen. McDouchface is out, folks!

“Hey look- is that a Star Wars surfboard?” Derek glances to where Stiles is pointing at a guy with a man bun, holding a surfboard which is indeed painted with Yoda. “I want one!”

“Can you surf?” Derek deadpans.

“Well, no. But I could learn!” Derek gives him an unimpressed look.

“You almost fell into the water whilst still standing on the ground.”

“Yeah, only cause you threw water in my face!”

Soon though the sun begins to sunset, casting brilliant rays of red and orange streaking across the sky. The air is tainted pink, the water becomes a reflective gold, and Stiles falls silent.

They sit in silence, watching the sun sink lower until only a slimmer of light is left, and a deep hazy blue has fallen over the sky.

Stiles stands up. “There’s some place I want you to see,” he tells Derek softly.

After pausing for Derek to pull himself up, Stiles turns and heads toward the line of trees bordering the beach. Open air becomes filled with tall trees, the sound of crashing waves replaced by crickets, the sand underfoot becoming fallen leaves.

The light dwindles out as they walk further into the forest, making it harder to see, but Stiles knows where he’s going. He hasn’t been here in years, but he will never forget the path.

They continue walking in silence for fifteen minutes until they arrive at a clearing. The trees drop away, leaving the brilliant sky in view. The stars wink down, illuminating the scintillating lake which runs through the middle of the clearing.

Stiles leads them over to the grass by the lake’s edge and they sit down, side by side.

Stiles points to something down the lake. “Look,” he whispers, “they’re starting to come out.”

At first, Derek’s confused; he’s not sure who ‘they’ are. But then he’s able to see a few pinpricks of yellow light buzzing around. A few quickly become ten, then hundreds, and Derek realises that they’re fireflies.

Beautiful glowing fireflies, hovering a few feet above the lake’s surface and stretching down the lake as far as Derek can see. They flit and dance around, constantly moving, constantly buzzing. Yet despite that, Derek feels relaxed and at ease, perhaps the most he’s been in months.

He turns his head to look at Stiles, who’s watching the fireflies, with a nostalgic expression.

“My mom used to take me out here,” he says quietly. “As a kid, I was really hyperactive and always brimming with energy- it was way more intense than how I am now, before I had my medication. And that made me hard to handle, I guess. Sometimes, it would get too much; sometimes too much for me but mostly too much for my parents. My mom would bring me here as a way to calm me. We would spend the afternoon running around the beach, burning up all my excess energy, and then we would come here and just sit.”

His eyes continue to follow the fiery paths the fireflies leave.

“It was comforting, watching these creatures who were just as active as me, but were able to create such a serene aura.”

Derek can only nod.

“This morning, just all the stress of the past few months was finally catching up to me and I just felt so helpless cause we’re not getting anywhere, so I thought it’d be good to come out here again. As a way to remind us of the good things in life, and that life has a way of making things work out in the end.” Stiles wrinkles his nose. “Now that I’ve said that out loud, it sounds incredibly cheesy.”

“You not wrong though,” Derek quietly replies.  “I’ve been so caught up in looking for Boyd and Erica that everything else just passes me by.”

His admission has Stiles looking back at him. “It’s not your fault, you know that right?”

“But it is my responsibility. _They’re_ my responsibility.” Derek’s tone is harsh, but it’s directed at himself, not at Sties. The anger quickly dissipates though; the warm air is too tranquil to allow anger to be breathed out into it.

So instead, Derek lifts his head to the sky. Stars twirl in the sky, tiny pinpricks dotting an azure canvas. 

“There’s Cassiopeia,” Derek points out, lifting an arm to the sky. “There, at the edge of the sky. It’s only just rising so it won’t be fully visible for another hour or two.”

Stiles follows his gaze. “And what’s that one, over there? It looks a bit like a bow tie.”

“That’s Orion, the hunter.”

“And that one?”

“The lupus constellation,” says Derek with a small smile.

“Really? The wolf constellation? It doesn’t look anything like you!”

“It’s always been my favourite one,” Derek admits. “On full moons, my family would run through the preserve, and at the end we would just lie down and look at the stars. The wolf would always be there, watching over us.”

His eyes flick back to Stiles, only to find him watching him with a curious expression.

“There’s just so much more to you,” murmurs Stiles. Derek isn’t sure if he really meant to say it aloud. “What else have you been keeping to yourself, big guy?”

Derek swallows, words on the tip of his tongue. Then, before he can second guess himself, he lets it out. “Would you like to find out?” he replies softly.

Stiles eyes meet his, staring into him. Then, his gaze slips to Derek’s lips. Derek finds that they’ve already drifted closer together, and leans forward.

Stiles too leans forward an inch.

Derek can see Stiles’ individual moles peppering his pale skin. He can feel Stiles’ warm breath as his eyes flutter close, and then he feels Stiles lips pressed against his.

The kiss is unhurried and comforting. His past kisses had always been frantic and heavy, always feeling as though something was missing. But with Stiles, it simply feels natural.  

Pulling back, Derek lets his eyes rest shut for a moment longer. Opening them, he sees Stiles, looking hesitant. Derek gives him a small smile.

He wraps an arm around Stiles’ side and places his other hand over Stiles, squeezing reassuringly. He tips his head back to the sky.

The fireflies weave around them, the stars wink down at them and Derek thinks perhaps everything will be alright.

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading- hope you enjoyed it!  
> Comments much appreciated- I will shower you in virtual hugs and kisses!


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